


Ungentlemanly

by Scruggzi



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Post Ficathon bonus, Reunion Sex, phrack banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 14:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17644523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: Phryne returns to a welcome home party organised by her Melbourne family, she and Jack decide to escape for a little private time.





	Ungentlemanly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RubyCaspar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyCaspar/gifts), [justsare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsare/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Unladylike](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17438531) by [PhryneFicathon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhryneFicathon/pseuds/PhryneFicathon), [Scruggzi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi). 



> I wrote a fic for Justsare for ficathon for the prompt 'Someone is acting out of character, or are they?' in which hungover Phryne snores. In that fic phrack wake up in Jack's bed, dimly recalling the night before in which they drank too much champagne at Phryne's welcome home party and ran away to Jack's house for shagnanigans.
> 
> RubyCaspar suggested that I should write the prequel which turned out to be about twice as long as the original and a great deal of fun. I'm not entirely sure which order it's best to read them in so I've linked them but not put them in a series.
> 
> Big thanks to TandBanjo and aurora_australis for the beta reads!

In then end, they all went to meet her. Phryne’s plane was to touch down sometime that afternoon, and while Jack might have a few regrets about the lack of a more private reunion, he couldn’t help feeling cheered by the way her entire Melbourne family had turned out to welcome her home.

Jane had insisted on riding in the front of the police motorcar, which the Inspector had commandeered for the occasion, whilst Constable and Mrs Collins sat in the back. Jack thought they might be holding hands – marriage appeared to suit them both.

Jane, meanwhile, had far more important things to talk about: specifically, Shakespeare. Feeling that the girl could use a bit of entertainment in light of Miss Fisher’s three-month absence, Jack and Dr Macmillan had treated her to an evening out to see a production of _Richard III_ and she had fallen utterly in love.

Apparently, her determination to sit next to Jack on this journey had been a scheme to pick his brains on the relative accuracy of Shakespeare’s histories. Normally this was a subject which Jack would happily discuss at length; today, however, he was painfully aware that every inch of ground they covered took him closer to Phryne. To Phryne and whatever romantic overtures she was still willing to accept.

It had been months, there had been a few telegrams, light reassurances that she was still alive, which he supposed was a sign she was thinking of him, but she had travelled for a spell after dropping her father off in London and had been too much on the move for proper correspondence.  

She could have changed her mind.

He did not think his analysis of the possible propagandistic role of _Macbeth_ in validating King James’ claim on the English throne held as much authority as it might otherwise have done, but he did discover that Jane’s attempts to borrow Miss Fisher’s copy of _Antony and Cleopatra_ had been scuppered.

“She usually keeps it in her room, but I couldn’t find it so she must have taken it with her.”

Well that seemed promising. He kept his eyes on the road and smiled on the inside.

***

They were joined at the airfield by a cab containing two red raggers, Dr Macmillan, Aunt Prudence, and a picnic lunch provided by Mr Butler, who was back at Wardlow preparing a further selection of delicious treats for their return. Aunt Prudence had donated several cases of finest quality French champagne to the cause and intended to get her money’s worth by being present at every stage of the welcome home festivities. This was slightly unfortunate as far as Jack was concerned because he was fairly sure he did not have it in him to sweep Miss Fisher into a passionate embrace whilst her Aunt tutted in the background. Hopefully, it could wait until later.

The afternoon was warm and golden, the sun had passed it’s zenith by the time they arrived and with the addition of a few well-placed parasols and a large picnic blanket, they were more than comfortable, although Jack found he was so nervous, even Mr Butler’s famous sandwiches could hardly tempt him – he barely finished his fourth one! His head kept twisting involuntarily towards the sky in the hope of spotting the tiny plane as Miss Fisher winged her way back to him, only stopping when Mac caught his eye and he realised he’d been rumbled.

In fact, it was Jane – after three false starts which turned out to be birds - who spotted the little black speck in the distance. Jack rose to his feet, shielding his eyes with one hand and saw it, he felt his skin prickle and his stomach churn uncomfortably. _She was home_.

The transition from speck, to plane to Phryne - beaming, lovely, magnificent Phryne, jumping down from the cockpit to embrace her ward in a hug - took an age. Finally, though she was here, laughing and sparkling at everyone with all the wit and vivacity that he had missed so much.

“Hello, Jack.”

Her voice was soft, and she was very deliberately not touching him. It was probably for the best; the tension that stretched between them was drawn tight enough to snap, and even Aunt Prudence’s stern gaze might not have been enough to hold them back if she had.

“Welcome home, Miss Fisher. I trust the world’s criminals have been suitably subdued?”

She shrugged with feigned nonchalance, leaning towards him, he could have sworn her fingers twitched as if itching to straighten his tie.

“The ones I met at least.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

The volumes spoken with their eyes suffered the now traditional interruption, as Aunt Prudence coughed meaningfully to attract her niece’s attention.

“If you are ready, Phryne dear, I believe Mr Butler has been preparing a small celebration for your return and Jane has already been out in the sun all afternoon.”

Jane’s immediate protest was silenced by a look from her guardian and once the plane was carefully stowed, the nine of them, plus the scant luggage the tiny Avro Avian could carry, were all packed back into the motorcars and headed for Wardlow.

***

While she might have fantasised about a more intimate reunion with her inspector, Phryne couldn’t find it within herself to be disappointed at the entourage that had greeted her. Her journey with her father had tested her every nerve and it had taken months of carefree travel to bring her back to herself. Finding her family – her true family – ready and waiting for her was more than she felt she deserved. Besides, by the look on his face when she landed, Jack wasn’t going anywhere.

She left her Aunt Prudence to hold court upon their return and headed upstairs with Dot, where Mr Butler in his omniscience had readied a bath and a large glass of whisky. She scrubbed quickly; she was tired and a little sore from her flight, but now she was here, she was more than eager to get into the thick of things. The world could go hang as far as she was concerned - Melbourne was where her heart lived.

Thinking that, she smiled to herself, splashed lightly out of the tub, and wrapped herself in the large, soft towel Dot had laid out before bustling off to lay out a selection of gowns for Phryne’s perusal. A brief rummage in her flight bag uncovered a trusty black clamshell case, the contents of which were quickly put in place. She had plans for that evening; they involved the words ‘Jack Robinson’ and ‘naked’. After that she was happy to embrace her trademark spontaneity.

She practically danced back into her bedroom, whisky in hand, to the welcome sound of silk being extracted from her wardrobe.

It really was good to be home.

***

Jack swallowed his mouthful of champagne a little too quickly when she entered and had to stifle the cough. He had forgotten, somehow, just how well Phryne Fisher could wear a dress. This evening she was a shimmering mass of midnight blue and sparkling diamonds, like stars across the night sky. The look she gave him as she sashayed over with a replacement for his empty glass assured him that the fine silk concealed either the deadliest lingerie money could buy, or nothing but her skin, and he was going to have to wait all evening to find out which. He took another deep draught of champagne to ease his fraying nerves. It was going to be a long night.

He spent most of it on the side-lines as was his want; he chatted with Mac and Jane about their plans to see _Hamlet_ in the coming month. Then Hugh, Cec and Bert began an amiable argument about football to which he was happy to contribute; poor Cec found himself completely outnumbered by the Abbotsford supporters, and was forced to call in Dot for back-up.

Throughout it all though there was Phryne; Phryne laughing with him through tales of her adventures, Phryne giggling with Jane and Dot about gods-only-dared-speculate-what, Phryne dancing…

“Care for a waltz, Inspector?”

Jack glanced around, Mac and the cabbies were busily engaged in a two-up game that Hugh was pointedly ignoring, busy as he was flirting gently with his wife over on the chaise. Jane had apparently been reunited with Phryne’s copy of _Antony and Cleopatra_ and was deaf to everything else, and Aunt Prudence was managing to snore with dignity in an armchair, the last of her brandy unfinished in her glass.

“I could be persuaded.”

He straightened up from where he had been leant against the mantel and took her hand. The electric spark between them ignited in the moment, but it was not the raging, out of control fire he had feared would scandalise her relatives. He felt light, elated, in step; their movements perfectly in time. It was so good to hold her, to breathe her in, to let his fingers caress the silk of her dress at her waist and the silk of her skin as he grasped her hand. More than that though, it felt good to have his partner back, for his soul to once again be keeping time with another soul.

Phryne was smiling, melting into the dance. She was powerfully aware that this was the closest she and Jack had been for months and it was almost embarrassing how affected she was by even the slightest touch. The light brush of his fingers over the skin of her wrist had her throbbing with need for him, the warmth of his hand at her waist and the warmth in his eyes as they drank her in were hypnotic. She could feel the brush of air against her cheek as he exhaled, the scent of beeswax from his pomade combined with the hint of sandalwood in his soap into a heady fragrance she would have recognised anywhere.

Perhaps it was the champagne - which had been particularly good, God bless Aunt P - but she thought he seemed more relaxed, easier in himself than the last time they had waltzed. He was smiling, not one of the secret, barely-there smiles that loved to lurk in the downturned corners of his mouth when she was being especially charming. It was a smile that lit his whole face from the inside out. She wanted to taste it and damnit she had waited long enough.

The measure ended with an unexpected round of applause from the two-up table and from Jane who had put down her book to watch. Hugh joined in a little uncertainly following his wife’s lead and Aunt P shifted dangerously in her sleep before letting out an elephantine snort and continuing to snooze. Phryne turned and curtsied to her audience and was a little surprised when Jack too took a deep bow, still smiling, that long-abandoned theatrical flair rising to the surface on a tide of French champagne.

Well that did it, she had to get them both to a more secluded spot right now before she took him in an armchair in front of all of their friends.

“You look a little warm, Inspector. Perhaps a stroll in the garden?”

It was such a flimsy excuse that her voice rose to a tell-tale pitch and Mac actually snorted, prompting a look of derision. Jack’s eyes were laughing but he somehow managed to keep his voice neutral as he answered.

“I wouldn’t want you to overheat, Miss Fisher. Lead the way,” and followed her out towards the garden.

***

It was a warm night, the scent of lilac and gardenia drifted on the light breeze that blew in from the sea. Phryne’s arms were wrapped companionably around Jack’s bicep and she was wearing an artless smile of genuine happiness that warmed him more effectively than any champagne could have – even on Prudence Stanley’s budget. There had been rather a lot of champagne now Jack came to think about it. He felt a little unsteady on his feet, and an unaccustomed thrill of recklessness was coursing through him. If Phryne were to invite him to her bed tonight – as she had done on several previous occasions – he would not retreat. He might not have been able to follow her to England, but he could think of plenty of ways to make that up to her if she was still willing to indulge him.

Phryne breathed deeply, loving the familiar scents of her own garden and the feel of Jack pressed in close to her side. The soft, warm air against her skin felt decadent, sensual, so unlike the harsh, damp chill of an English winter. Of course, she had travelled through many climates in the months since England, but, well, even with the whole world out there, Melbourne had a great deal to recommend it.

“I missed you, Jack.”

She hadn’t quite meant to be that direct, but she had drunk too much and waited too long to play coy now.

“I missed you too. My life is far too quiet and predictable without you around to disrupt it,” Jack admitted. It was a rather gallant confession, but given his profession, probably not a very accurate one.

“Criminals all behaving themselves in my absence then?”

He huffed out a small laugh. “When it comes to causing trouble there’s no contest whatsoever, Miss Fisher. It’s a mercy for the Victoria police force that you didn’t consider taking up a life of crime.”

It was a compliment so perfectly attuned to her she almost blushed. She loved that way he had of teasing her with the things she loved about herself, letting her know he loved them too, probably despite his better judgement. He looked so beautiful in the low light, the mingled silver of the stars and yellow of the street lamps cast dark shadows that picked out the sharp line of his jaw and high ridges of his cheekbones. She couldn’t resist, he looked so tempting, and she had never been a woman to resist temptation without good reason.

When she kissed him, it was everything she remembered, everything she had been dreaming of since that fond farewell in the airfield too many months ago. _Christ, he had been worth waiting for!_ He tasted of champagne and Jack, with a little hint of the chocolates Jane had bought to welcome her home. It was a delicious combination and she happily followed his lead as the soft stroke of his tongue against hers invited her in, silently offering himself up to her. An offer she had no intention of refusing.

Jack wondered idly if he might be dreaming. He had dreamed of this, Phryne in his arms, the warmth of her skin beneath silk and sequins a torment and a delight as his hand slid up from her waist, finding the soft satin of her skin where the back of her dress dipped low. He held her close, one hand in her hair, her tongue doing wicked things to him as her hands slid under his jacket. She pulled back for breath with an utterly impertinent grin as she very deliberately palmed his arse through his trousers.

“Attempting to corrupt an officer of the law, are we?” He was failing to hide his smile at the thought, and he didn’t give a damn.

She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement and challenge, a challenge he acted on at once, and with surprisingly little consideration of the consequences. It was probably the champagne, or perhaps just the heady, joyous freedom he felt at being near her again. His hand slid slowly down from where he had been toying with the bare skin of her back and cupped the firm, tight cheeks of her arse, squeezing them together and pulling her even closer, letting her feel the first stirrings of his arousal through the fabric of his sober, well-cut suit.   

He should have been mortified, ashamed of himself for such boorish, ungentlemanly behaviour, but he wasn’t. He wanted her, and he wanted her to know it. Besides, judging by her gasp and the way she began kissing him again, Phryne was a long way from objecting. They were wanton, desperate kisses accompanied by obscene little moans as she ground her hips into him, his body responding at once and with no trace of ambiguity. He kept going, palming her breasts through her gown, whispering her name against her lips. They should stop, he knew they should stop but she felt so good and he couldn’t drag himself away from the taste of her. Just one more kiss, another minute in her arms and he would draw back…

Phryne shivered in delight at the feel of Jack’s hands on her, taking liberties she would never have expected of him. She had already managed to surreptitiously loosen his tie and undo the buttons of his waistcoat, giving her access to the firm, flat planes of his chest and belly, still sadly walled away behind shirt and undershirt. She would happily have let him take her right there in the garden if he wanted, but when her hand slipped below his waistline to stroke the impressive and still growing bulge in his trousers, he drew back with an agonised groan that had her dripping right through the silk of her knickers.

“Stop, Phryne, stop. We can’t, not here.” His deep voice was rough and urgent, his eyes wild, her lipstick smeared across his face like a brand.

“No-one will see us, Jack.” She knew it was a lost cause, but couldn’t resist pushing the envelope just a little bit further.

“Our past experience suggests otherwise,” he pointed out. Not unreasonably given the number of times they had been interrupted at inconvenient moments.

“I’m fairly sure none of our past experiences have been quite so… intimate, but perhaps you’re right. Would you like to join me upstairs?”

“No… I mean yes, of course, but…”

He was blushing hard enough that she could see it clearly even in the low light and glancing down to where her hand had just left his trousers, Jack’s predicament was clear. Very clear. Delightfully clear. She was beginning to feel a great deal of resentment towards those trousers, however well he wore them.

“Just, um, give me a moment?” he asked, rather sheepishly.

The expression was frankly adorable, and Phryne felt her heart squeeze as she looked at him; still, she couldn’t resist a tease.

“Oh dear, Inspector. I’d offer you a cold shower, but I’m afraid you would have to head inside for that as well.”

“Or perhaps a brisk walk?” he asked, hopefully. “My house is not that far, and we would be completely alone there?”

Now there was an offer she truly couldn’t refuse.

“Jack Robinson are you attempting to abduct me from my own welcome home party?” she asked, in a mock-scandalised tone that clearly conveyed her delight at the suggestion.

“Would you like me to?” There it was again, that low, sinful purr that promised so much, and after what they had just shared, she was in no doubt that he was planning to deliver on that promise as soon as they could find a less conspicuous location.

By way of answer she pressed a swift kiss to his lips, stroking her hand down the buttons of his exposed shirt as she withdrew.

“Smarten yourself up, darling. I’ll be right back.”

And she left him to straighten the mess of his rumpled hair and clothing whilst she slipped inside to collect their coats in preparation for a daring escape.

***

It became quite clear, quite quickly that they were both rather more inebriated than either of them had realised. They swayed along the pavement arm in arm, Phryne giggling a little at the idea of ‘escaping’ her own party.

“I feel a little like when I was a girl and Janey and I used to sneak out at night after mother and father were in bed.”

“Up to no good I’m sure.”

“Naturally! Usually we would meet Mac somewhere and head off looking for trouble.”

“And you found it?”

“Most of the time. There was one night we all broke into the zoo. Janey wanted to go, and mother wouldn’t take us. Most of the animals were asleep of course, but there were some lovely lemurs still awake and we managed to get a good look at the elephants by climbing up to a window on the side of their house.”

“And you got away with it?”

“For several hours. We were forced to make a run for it when Janey woke up a scarlet macaw and drew the attention of a very unsympathetic zookeeper. He never caught us though.”

“I’ve no doubt you would have talked your way out of it if he had.” There was such an unmistakable pride in Jack’s eyes at her childhood accomplishments, and she loved the way he appreciated her whole history, the girl she had been to the woman she had become. She loved a great deal about him, and she was feeling more than a little tempted to tell him so.

“We promised to take the secret to the grave so if I’m murdered within the week your best lead will be Dr Mac.”

Jack tilted his head in acknowledgement with a slight smile. It was that damn smile that did it.

They were passing under a streetlight and she could see his face lit up clearly, soft and relaxed. She would have expected him to be nervous, they were going to his house with a romantic tryst planned, something she had been failing to talk him into for over a year. Having finally submitted to her whims he deserved to know the truth.

_“Can you keep a secret, Jack?”_

When she leaned up to whisper into his ear, it was with the same impish glee that she had snuck away from her own house to run away with him for the night. As if she was sneaking out behind the back of the woman she professed to be, indulging in the addictive thrill of loving with her whole heart, jumping out with him over a precipice with no safety net to catch her. The look on his face at her words lit up the dark night like an early dawn, and his kisses as he drew her close, then pressed her up against the nearest wall, left her in no doubt that he loved her in return.

***

Jack led Phryne up the little path to his modest bungalow feeling uncharacteristically giddy, and not just from the wine. She was here, at his home, she loved him – and more than that, she had been willing to admit her feelings out loud. He had not expected anything of the kind, at least not tonight. He had hoped she would be willing to escalate their relationship beyond a kiss hello, and here they were, running off like a pair of truants intending to spend the night together.

‘Happy’ didn’t even get close.

Phryne had been to Jack’s house before on occasion, when she had offered him a lift home and been invited in for a cup of tea or a nightcap – despite her driving which usually made him either tut or level empty threats of arrest in her direction. She had managed a little surreptitious snooping around the more public areas, and it was clearly not the house he had shared with Rosie. She had never been in the bedroom though, and fully intended to rectify that oversight tonight.

The front door closed behind them, leaving them in darkness. Jack reached for the hallway light and found Phryne’s lips instead; he pressed her up against his front door and let their coats and hats fall in an unregarded heap on the floor. Unable to hold back any longer they stumbled, mixing kisses and laughter, through the dim, unlit rooms until they found Jack’s bed. Her dress and knickers had been abandoned on the floor with barely a moment spared to appreciate the exquisite satin and black lace, the thought of which had been plaguing his imagination for hours.

Despite her ever-present curiosity, investigation of Jack’s living arrangements was a long way from Phryne’s mind. She had gotten him down to a singlet and smalls and was giving the newly revealed topography of his chest and belly her undivided attention. All in all, a far more interesting matter than his taste in bedroom furniture.

“Phryne…” Jack made her name sound utterly indecent, and his voice sent a throbbing pulse to her cunt.

“You taste so good,” he murmured into her skin.

He was doing his best to kiss every part of her he could reach, wild and unrestrained, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his tongue reaching out to lap at her neck, her breasts, dipping into her navel and trailing along her thighs.

Phryne could hardly believe this was her staid and serious Inspector, yet his eyes, when he raised them to meet hers, his mouth hovering just above her sex, wore an intense, hungry expression she had seen on him before. Clearly, she had not been the only one who had let her imagination wander south before tonight.

Phryne was not wrong in that assessment. Jack had fantasised about this moment more times than he could count. He loved this act. The very first time he had tried it, a newlywed eager to find any and every way to please his young bride, Rosie had shyly confided in him that she had found it more pleasurable than anything else they had done together. He had set about becoming an expert, determined that his wife would always find satisfaction in his arms. Long after their marriage had stagnated into brittle smiles and empty silences, they had still been able to connect here, with him seeking out her satisfaction with his tongue between her thighs.

It was very different with Phryne; for one thing she could never be described as shy. She had been squirming and panting beneath him as he kissed her and his hands moved over the supple skin of her breasts and belly, the powder soft flesh of her thighs and buttocks; but the moment his tongue made contact with her cunt she moaned his name, loud and uninhibited and let rip a string of curses that had him moaning in turn. He followed her lead and did not hold back, delving in deep, devouring as much of her as he could reach, the taste of her crowding out every conscious thought in his mind.

It was his fingers that did it, Phryne decided. He had already been putting his tongue to such masterful use she suspected his neighbours would be either horrified or happily enjoying the show. Then the tongue, which had been so expertly turning her insides to fire, began to circle softly around her swollen clitoris and two long fingers curled up inside. Her climax detonated with a force which overwhelmed her, blurring her vision and making her muscles clench hard and then release as she sank into a happy post-orgasmic daze.

Jack snuggled up beside her, licking her arousal off his lips and wearing an expression of unaffected delight. He didn’t even look smug, just genuinely, outrageously happy to have been able to please her.

“I knew it,” she panted.

“Knew it?” he asked, the sloppy grin still firmly fixed on his face.

Phryne attempted to regain her customary composure, but the combination of drunkenness and post-orgasmic euphoria ensured that she failed entirely.

“You always struck me as a proud Australian man with a talent for diving in the bush,” she declared with faux solemnity, her words only slightly slurred.

Jack let out a deep belly laugh at that - a wonderful sound she didn’t think she had ever heard him make before - and for good measure kissed his way up from her sternum to her lips, relishing in every inch.

“I’m a little out of practice, but as it turns out, it’s like riding a bicycle, you never forget.”

“Apparently not,” she agreed, her hands already beginning to wander once again. “Speaking of which,” she began to massage his magnificent thighs, “I have wanted to investigate these for quite some time.”

She ducked down in order to explore, kissing and nibbling her way up again until she was level with the very prominent erection, now tenting Jack’s underwear. She licked her lips in anticipation as her hands moved higher. It was the work of a moment to divest him of his shorts, and for good measure the singlet he was unaccountably still wearing.

Her eyes widened in pleasure at the sight of him, long and thick, his intimate skin flushed a deep red. He was rock hard, the veins standing proud at the surface just begging her to follow them with her tongue.

“My word, Jack, whatever am I going to do with this?”

The tone of her voice and her expression clearly communicated her intentions, but even so, she would never in a million years have anticipated his response.

“Well if you were intending to return the favour, I can’t say I’d argue.”

This was said with a slight head tilt and a nonchalance that had her mouth actually hanging open in surprise. She felt a little tremor of pleasure, an echo of her orgasm, or perhaps another tiny thrill, tremble through her at his words. She had thought it would take time for him to acclimatise, that he would be too much of a gentleman to ask her directly, even though they both knew what he wanted. Apparently where time was lacking, good champagne would do in a pinch. She should get him drunk more often.

Misinterpreting her surprise, Jack made to apologise. It was not as if he was in the habit of asking beautiful women to suck his cock. Or any women for that matter. It had just slipped out, his desire forming the words without asking permission of his brain. Phryne however, cut off his second guessing decisively by fastening her lips around the head of his cock and slowly beginning to explore him with her tongue.

The sound Jack made was one of pure, hedonistic delight; he felt as though his insides were liquifying, becoming something glorious and decedent, a burning ambrosia that had him shaking with a pleasure almost too much to bear. His hand came to rest on the back of Phryne’s head as he watched her work, her eyes closed as she savoured the feel of him against her tongue. Her hands joined her mouth, cupping his balls delicately as she worked his shaft, her tongue protruding to lick its way up and down his length, tangling with her fingers then returning to circle his head in slow deliberate motions that had him panting out her name.

_“Fuck, fuck, god, Phryne, please don’t stop.”_

The plea might have come from the heart, or possibly somewhere considerably lower down, but either way, the sound of Jack cursing was so utterly erotic that Phryne simply had to open her eyes to watch him. He was gazing at her in awe, his cheeks red, his mouth half open, a whispered stream of profanity escaping his lips. She hoped he could tell just how much she was enjoying this - the strange mix of power and submission as she watched his carefully cultivated control shatter, whilst she eschewed her own pleasure in pursuit of his.

He hadn’t intended to come in her mouth, hadn’t intended anything. His whole evening since their departure from Wardlow had been lived like Phryne, moment to moment without a plan. He was incapable of speech, but he managed to nudge her shoulder in warning, she met his eyes with irrefutable intent and began to suck him hard and slow, drawing the moment out as his vision whited out and he came with a joyous laugh, like a man made young again. She licked him off her lips with glee as he sank back gasping into the pillows. She looked so very much like the cat who got the cream, that he couldn’t find it in himself to feel ashamed at his ungentlemanly behaviour. She certainly didn’t seem to mind.

***

Phryne was entertaining herself by tracing little patterns in the sparse hair on Jack’s chest, breathing in the scent of him. She thought he might be dozing a little; his eyes were closed but he wasn’t completely asleep, his fingers were stroking softly along her shoulder blades in time with hers across his chest. She felt wide awake, buzzing with excitement at having finally found her way into his bed. He had acquitted himself marvellously in her opinion, she had never expected him to be so forward, so open about his own desires. It made her wonder what else he might initiate. There were so many things she had thought about doing with him. Tonight, was only the beginning.

Jack blinked his eyes open, determined not to fall asleep when there were so many better things he could be doing - Phryne Fisher was in his bed for Christ sakes! First though, he thought they could both do with a little refreshment.

“Would you like a drink?”

For his part he relished the taste of her on his tongue but didn’t want to presume the feeling was mutual. In fact, it very much was, but Phryne’s throat felt a little hoarse and she thought she could use a pick-me-up.

“Yes please, whisky if you have any.”

He did and although he had been thinking about water, he had also reached the point of drunkenness where no drink sounds like a bad idea. Dropping a thorough kiss on Phryne’s sinful lips – _how was he ever going to look at them again without thinking of the things she could do with that mouth?_ – he rose and wandered off in search of drinks.

He did get a glass of water from the kitchen, realising as he did so that he had never stood naked in that room before. His legs felt wobbly and the whole experience felt utterly unreal, as if he was bound to wake up at any moment. He drained the glass and refilled it, before procuring two large tumblers of whisky and returning to the bedroom.

There really was something special about watching Jack Robinson enter a room unselfconsciously naked, and it was especially delightful when he was carrying drinks. It hardly seemed possible that they had reached such a point so soon after her return. They had been so long in the build up that it felt at once new and as if they had been lovers for years, relaxed and comfortable in each other’s presence.

He handed her the water first and she drank it down gratefully before handing the glass back to him in exchange for her whisky. She laid down on her side with the sheet almost covering her bare backside, shifting up a little to make room for him.

Once he was comfortable and had disposed of the empty water glass, Phryne took a pointed sip of whisky and fixed him with a shrewd look he normally associated with criminal interrogation. Jack braced himself for incoming trouble of the kind only she could cause him.

“So, Inspector, where shall we start?” She did not intend to let him reveal that kind of hidden talent without some form of explanation.

“I think we’ve made rather a good start already, don’t you?” he parried, enjoying the sport of sparing with her as he sipped at his whisky.

“Fair point.” She raised her glass to toast him. “You really are rather good, you know. Another skill honed at the Police Academy?”

Jack chuckled, his attempts at deflection were clearly not up to his usual standards. It was probably the whisky, and the fact that feeling was only gradually returning to his legs.

“I try not to kiss and tell as a rule, but no. Much later than that.”

“I’ve been labouring under the impression that you have been languishing in tragic, self-imposed celibacy, but perhaps I was mistaken?”

“I wouldn’t call it tragic.”

“Well I would. Think of all the times and places we could have done that before. All of the people we could have scandalised...”

“All of the ways I could have gotten myself fired?” he smirked at her, eyes twinkling. “Don’t think I wasn’t tempted. It just, it never seemed worth the risk.” His expression turned serious for a moment, and he reached out to trace the line of her cheek with a finger, the scent of her sex still clinging faintly to it. “You are so much more to me than just this...” he gestured towards their naked bodies with the hand that still held his whisky, the amber liquid sloshing gently in the glass.

Phryne raised her own drink to her lips and drained it, looked around for a likely spot to stash the glass and finally slipping it under the bed for safe keeping. She snuggled into the crook of Jack’s arm and resumed the soft stroking of his skin, her fingers exploring the ridges of muscle on his belly. Somewhat to his surprise, Jack felt a renewed interest begin to tingle at the base of his cock _. The things this woman could do to him._

“Infuriating as it was having you constantly reject me for a life of abstinence,” Phryne teased, her tone one of exaggerated tragedy that made Jack smirk at her, “I’m glad we waited until we were on the same page.”

Jack nodded in agreement. Somehow tonight, all the little fears and doubts that had long since prevented him from pursuing Phryne in earnest, seemed to have melted away. He felt as if their greater intimacy had forged a new level of trust and understanding between them; although doubtless she would still give him a run for his money the next time she appeared at one of his crime scenes.     

“Perhaps we should take the opportunity to make up for lost time?” he suggested.

Phryne’s fingers had found the pronounced V of muscle that tapered down towards his groin and that had always been an especially sensitive spot. His cock was rising between them again and although he knew her claims of rejection were not serious, he was eager to make sure she knew just how wanted she was.

Phryne’s hand found his growing erection and began to toy, lazily with him, taking her time to learn just the right pace and pressure.

“What did you have in mind, Jack?”

There was something about that satisfied clip to the _k_ when she said his name that inflamed his competitive streak. He removed her hand, causing an adorable pout, and rolled her fully onto her front, exposing the long curve of her spine. Starting at the nape of her neck he began kissing his way down, one hand resting on the pillow by her head, the other exploring the smooth skin of her legs, then her hips, spreading over her buttocks and squeezing them gently together.

“Do you know how many times I’ve seen your bare back? Those shear blouses and backless gowns you wear, they drive me to distraction every time.”

His words were growled out between kisses, his tongue and teeth sending jolts of pleasure down her spine as the deep rumble of his voice vibrated all the way down to her throbbing cunt.

“Hmm, tell me more,” she whispered, more than happy to see where he was going with this.

“The one you wore tonight might just be my favourite. I wanted to tear it off you, run my hands all over your perfect skin. It wasn’t the first time either. I’ve imagined how you would react, would you be angry, would you beg for more...?”

The scrape of his teeth bit down a little harder and she moaned at the sensation, his rougher touch turning her inside out.

“Would you let me mark you?”

She couldn’t tell if he was reminiscing or asking the question, but her answer was unequivocally the same.

_“Oh God, Jack! Please!”_

He sucked hard on the skin at the base of her neck, he would blush furiously the next day when he found the bruise, but in the moment, he felt no guilt at all, and Phryne’s cry of pleasure made his cock ache with the need to be inside her.

“And don’t even get me started on your trousers,” he continued, shifting his weight so both hands could grasp the firm globes of her gorgeous derrière. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve wanted to strip you out of them and bend you over my desk.”

Phryne let out an incoherent moan - the thought of her Inspector abandoning all restraint and reason, driven by an insatiable need for her – it was too delicious for words. She was writhing, bucking into his hands which were still gripping her arse and getting no relief.

_“Fuck, Jack! Please! I want…”_

“What is it that you want, Phryne?”

“I want you. I want you to fuck me.”

“Get on your knees.”

She obeyed him eagerly, without question or ulterior motives, quite possibly for the first time in their acquaintance. It could have been an order to submit; that commanding tone, that quiet, undeniable authority that he could project, seemingly without effort had always been something she had found deeply compelling. Here it was beyond erotic, and all the more so because she recognised it for what it was. He was not demanding her submission, he was showing her how much he wanted her, had always wanted her. Her teasing and flirtation had never fallen on cold stone; he had been storing up as many fantasies as she had, and now, finally on an even keel, they could explore them all.

The smile on Jack’s lips as he thrust inside her was a feral thing, all propriety and chivalry abandoned to animal need. The mingled sound of their pleasure could probably be heard in Sydney, and soon the sounds of slapping flesh and rough, wordless gasps rose up to break the peace of the night, the scent of sex mingling with Jack’s discarded whisky which had fallen from the bed to soak quietly into the carpet.

They moved together, fast and hard, each withdrawal leaving them desperate for the next moment of immersion when they would be joined again. Jack could feel the sweat breaking out on Phryne’s back and the grasp of her muscles tight around his cock as she came and came and came in a rolling climax that seemed to last forever.

Phryne was pushing herself back into every thrust, moaning his name over and over, her vision full of stars, her mind a blank, her body taking over. She could hear him, cursing, panting her name. The hands gripping her hips clenched and began to tremble as he took her deeper and deeper until they were both overcome. The heat of his release was warm and sweet inside her as they collapsed together in a tangled heap, too far gone for words.

It took some time for their breathing to calm, Phryne was lying face first on the pillow and happy to stay there till morning, Jack had rolled his weight to the side so he could press his nose into the crook of her neck and keep as close as possible without crushing her. In a last, futile attempt to regain his reputation as a gentleman, he located his singlet which had somehow ended up hanging from one of the bed posts and attempted to clean them up a little.

Phryne took it from him and threw it unceremoniously into the chaos that had once been his neatly ordered bedroom, rolled herself over and snuggled comfortably once more into the crook of his shoulder. Jack chuckled, thinking that the state of his bedroom could possibly be considered a perfect metaphor for the delightful disarray Phryne Fisher had brought to his once orderly routine.

He wouldn’t change it for the world.

They drifted together into a contented sleep, breathing deep and holding each other close. By the time the dawn had begun to creep slowly over the horizon, Inspector Robinson was out cold, and the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher had started snoring with the gusto of a drunken warfie.


End file.
